Intro Week

This past week, including today, has been the introduction week for all of the new UCU students. On the first day we were split up into 'families,' groups of ten new students lead by three second or third year 'mothers' and 'fathers.' Though some of the activities, especially the frequent speeches by university staff members have been about as fun and engaging as falling face first onto a cactus, others have ranging from peculiar to genuinely fun. In regards to those latter activities, the second day was comprised of a number of group sports and culminated with a tennis-themed party. The group sports themselves were a mixed-bag. Ultimate frisbee was an enjoyable team-building sport, aside from the frustration of so many European kids who had never even seen a frisbee let alone thrown one. Basketball was another 'fun' sport to play: many of the participants had never played the sport and ran around without dribbling (the refereeing was a little lax to accomodate this type of people), others got overly aggressive because of the lack of strict rule-enforcement and starting checking and throwing elbows. On top of all of that, it was drizzling the whole time we played and the ball accrued a very respectable coat of mud. Aside from these inconveniences, it was still gratifying to finally play basketball again.

The evening before, each team created flags: a painted piece of fabric symbolizing the group. My group, group eight, had chosen the theme of 'Super 8' and painted a number eight with a cape and beams of light filled with the flag of each nationality represented by our group. Though for the time being we had enjoyed our flag immensely, little did we know it was going to be part of an activity that could only be described as pure evil. The flag game had no rules; or at least the leaders of the event had done such an abysmal job of conveying them, that nobody knew what they were. The goal was simple: possess as many flags of other groups as possible, and the only known rule was to keep the flag visible at all times. The complex part of the event was that it could occur at any time of day and getting the flags always devolved into a tug-of-war match relying on brute-strength and the compartmentalization of that part of your psyche that allows you to participate in civil society.

Needless to say, this activity resulted in innumerable cuts, scratches, and bruises, sore arms and legs, and even a dislocated kneecap. It was really, really fun stuff. 

Some of the other activities that day including the 'hump race,' an activity utilizing a giant inflatable red rod that your team had to sit on and bounce through an obstacle course, a relay course on a bouncy house that although ordinarily easy, was next to impossible because of how wet it had become, and also a bike race where the rider had to race to a cone and back with a flat of beer in one hand. It is important to note that for hydration there was a stand of free beer available throughout the day.

Following our marathon sports day, on Wednesday we took everything much easier. We took things so much easier, in fact, that I really cannot recall anything of interest until the night time. As soon as the light outside indicated dusk was approaching, everyone went to their rooms to change into bar-appropriate attire. Our family biked down to the city center and began a night of bar-hopping or pub-crawling as it is better-known in Europe. After traveling to six different bars and clubs, eating french fries, and getting extremely hydrated, we went to a club on the canal. The club, along with almost every canal-level establishment, was built by hobbits. The entrances were all curved, and the ceiling short. The number of people crammed into the tiny rooms was astounding and led to a hot and uncomfortable time. 

Yesterday we were treated to a city tour and fox-hunt, a Dutch activity similar to a scavenger hunt, but with people and clues instead of objects (I actually created a game similar to this while working at SFBC away camp). The fox-hunt began with a brief introduction from our 'grandparents,' those individuals with even more authority than our parents, who locked the gate to the school behind us and stated that the only way back in was to finish the hunt. Before they were finished speaking, something that would literally NEVER happen in an American school, and by that I really do mean NEVER - this isn't even like school-sponsored drinking never, but like NEVER, NEVER, happened. Our grandparent was distracted momentarily by a car driving by and blasting its horn. Three masked figures came out of the vehicle with guns and started yelling about an anarchist revolution before tying up and throwing our grandparent into the back seat. The lead anarchist then revealed that the only way to get our grandparent back was to complete the obstacle course. He returned to his car blasting the siren on his loud speaker, and sped off, followed closely by a school security car. I was dumbfounded. When the masked people first debarked the vehicle I desperately tried to fathom what I was seeing. My first instinct recalled what had happened in Oslo last month, but at the same time the event seemed to contrived. Regardless of my feelings, I kept reflecting on the fact that if an American College or university would have pulled that stunt, people would have sued the school for psychological trauma, neighbors would have called the police, and the actors portraying the anarchists would have probably been shot to death because of the realism of their weapons. With this in mind, I started the fox hunt.

I will spare you the boring details of the hunt because, as so much of its point was to familiarize the new students with a town I've been living in, and exploring every part of, for the last two weeks, I was a little bored and reluctant to have to walk everywhere when I had a perfectly sound bike to use. The two main highlights for me were the actors portraying a pimp and prostitute, another sight usually not affiliated with school-sponsored activities, and Tivoli. When we reached the city-center, we were greeted by a pimp, and his 'bitch.' Both actors, especially the pimp, played their parts quite well and were not too much fun to be around. Our task at this point of the hunt was to get the phone numbers of two people on the street. To accomplish this, the pimp picked on of the girls of the group, made her his 'bitch,' and walked around with her to get phone numbers. Though this activity was off-putting, it didn't leave me with as much dismay as going by Tivoli. One of our activities required us to go to an antique store and buy something for one euro and fifty cents to please our kidnappers. Next door was Tivoli, the biggest club in the area and the location of the next concert of a band I really like, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. Finding out about the concert so late I didn't have time to get tickets...

In the evening we had a brief break and then got ready for the 'White Party.' Contrary to popular belief, and to the racist attitudes of the Dutch, non-white people were allowed in as well. Before the party, I went with some of my friends to their's and another groups 'mixer' where we played drinking games. The first game used a children's game called 'stunt pilot,' where players used small paddles to keep a plane up in the air with a goal of protecting their chickens. The drinking component occurred whenever one of your chickens died. Though I did a poor job of describing it just now, it really was quite intricately made and fascinating to watch. The second game was called 'what the fuck' and was a more explicit of some of the games I used to play at Y-camp. In the end, the games were both quite fun and very useful for learning names. The only difficulty arose when I had to convince a room full of European kids that I actually was drinking while playing these game, and ended up repeated spilling beer on myself.